Routine
by Quarter 'till Class
Summary: Amon/Noatak x Oc (Pre-Mid Series)


**Disclaimer: All and any _Legend of Korra_ as well as _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ character names belong to Micheal Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko, Nickelodeon (and so on) unless stated an OC which in case belong to the author, Quarter 'till Class. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft so is prohibited. Do not copy or create a reproduction of this work in any language without express written authorization of the author, ********Quarter 'till Class**. Thank you. Please enjoy! 

**Amon x Oc (Pre-book one/Mid-book one)**

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**Chapter One: Observation.**

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Observation was how this particular routine had been sparked, and observation was how it slowly evolved into something bordering on reckless obsession.

His seat was uncomfortable, the table was filthy, the sun shined over the rooftop of the across building and directly into his eyes. This place made him sneer in distaste, the amount of women who'd assumed he was a man without respect and approached him in hopes of gaining payment for the pathetic necessity of coitus made him slump further into his chair. He wondered what had possessed him to stride into this place, to seat himself in a tea shop void of customers and without much maintenance.

The hope of good food and drink? Doubtful.

More along the lines of an unpopulated place he'd be capable of breathing in without a mask covering his face. A need of air. Yes, a deep breath of dirty, polluted and coarse air that held the smell of countless herbs. This place, he assumed. Disgusting, horrid, grungy and a perfect place to observe the average citizens that walked past out in the open streets; both non-benders and benders ignoring the little hole in the wall he currently resided in, instead shopping at the little swap-meet like business across the way.

The way they walked, conversed, smiled...the only two types of people on this planet having customs and stances all their own. Benders walked with sturdy and strained ankles, the barely notable flow of their wrists as they expressed themselves physically when they spoke. So different in comparison to a natural human being...to someone without the unfair advantage to cheat them through life.

Yes, observations...

"May I help you?" Those simple words, a tone that barely rose over the sloshing of the tea in their cups as she smiled and held the serving tray up with the nimble fingers pressed against the bottom. He stared, completely aware of his constant observing, before parting his lips to speak to this odd specimen of a girl.

"Tea." He spoke solidly, his flattering features gracing her with the briefest form of a smile as he nodded. "Any."

"Will Sencha do?"

She was quick to counter, seeming sincerely apologetic for sounding so impatient even as her eyes studied his posture. Her free hand fiddled with her apron and her optimistic expression never faltered.

"That's fine." And she left, leaving him to prod at the back of her head with his stare as though she'd just handed him an Avatar appreciation pamphlet. He cleared his throat, to call attention from no one in particular seeing as how the shoppe was still empty, and looked over their menu for the fifth time that day.

It was funny. He didn't care much for Sencha.

* * *

Four days in a row, she had yet to show any signs of suspicion nor strike any conversation that did not consists of the morning's special. A casual smile, the perk of her lips and the usual tray holding anywhere from one to five beverages depending on the amount of people seated. She approached, just as she had the first three encounters. Even her hair was the same, braided casually to the side in a tangled vine of long strings, black with painfully green eyes that seemed overly jubilant.

And as always the waitress asked if she could provide him assistance.

"Tea." Routine by now, it felt like weeks and yet it'd only been a fraction of what he could guess. "Any."

"Will Sencha do?" Exact, perfect and still with inquiry...no sarcasm nor expectation. As though she hadn't asked him that same exact question every day for more than half a week.

"No, not this time." The girl didn't even flinch. Not even the slightest twitch of curiosity nor anything that would indicate he'd even turned off of their routine. Amon was amused, his countenance still and refusing to express it.

"Traditional green?" Soft. Her voice was soft and delicate, fit for her profession to provide a friendly atmosphere to any customer. Her wrists were sturdy, stiff as they held the tray with a firm grip. The hands of a waitress, he supposed. The hands of a hard worker.

"That's fine."

* * *

The fifteenth day, the amount of time he spent watching pedestrians being cut short due to his unhealthy interest in her, was an unusual one indeed. Amon watched the waitress as he took a seat in his usual spot. Her hair was an unusually free mess that knotted into itself against the faint breeze through the large open archways that stood as entrances. She was tense, tray held to her abdomen and elbows buckled to do so.

"May I help you?" Unusual, abnormal. Almost coarse and she avoided excessive eye contact.

"May I ask your name?" She seemed startled, a fluster of red growing against the faint olive of her complexion. A jitter of hesitation evident on the perky cheeks of her face and an anxiety overwhelming the green of her eyes. She parted her lips, a purse of concern as the waitress pondered over the truth and a fib. She barely knew this man...but she'd always had this awful habit of telling the absolute truth. A bit indiscreet.

"Avii." She surprisingly replied, fingers digging restlessly into the tray with bitten down nails and a steady glance.

"Noatak." He outstretched a hand, her politeness as expected even with the amusing show of surprise. She shook it, grip firm and rather callous against his own. Again, the visually delicate hands of a hard worker.

"It's nice to meet you." She says, the tone barely audible. "Traditional?"

"That's fine." He says, blue eyes examining her odd behavior. And upon his order she left, the faintest of smiles perking her lips.

* * *

Another week, constant, still routine. But today she arrives with a dirtied apron and a scowl, having earlier shooed the prostitutes away and being bombarded with beverages and food as result. He felt pity, a bit of irritation that caused the slightest headache. And outrage as one of said prostitutes, an earth bender, dramatically raised the butt of her shoe in retaliation. She slammed her heel to the ground with the distinct intention of raising a rock before Avii's foot; the girl toppled forward, her tray and plates scattering over the floor in shattered bits.

Benders. Despicable.

He quickly stood, finding this an appropriate enough situation to provide assistance. Yes he was a terrorist...that didn't mean he was a mannerless brute. He offered a hand, which she gratefully took, before scowling in the direction of said whores and picking up several pieces of the shattered glasses.

"Thank you, sir." She says it and he almost smiles.

"No need for formalities at this point, wouldn't you think?" She looked up from her crouched form, fingers curling around the broken remains of each cup and plate.

"I suppose you're right...Noatak." She takes a moment, only to test the waters, because she remembers his name with a vivid picture in the way he'd said it. She liked him. A sort of tragedy in her own opinion. And his gentle expression proves that he is indeed relaying the truth of his name and that for once she was not being lied to.

"Benders." He scoffed a bit, and she'd misheard him; quick to assume he'd put down their undistinguished profession rather than what they are. Avii frowned as the women took off, their short skirts and inappropriate attire not the only reason she'd demanded they leave. Such horribly crude behavior had also managed to have them escorted out.

"They're simply trying to make a living. Nothing wrong with that." She says faintly, and Amon simply scowls again at the trails of kicked up dust floating in their wake.

Their laughter disgusted him.

* * *

She often wonders if anyone would notice her absence, although none seem to comment on her late hours as it is. She feels like an accessory, a furnishing to her entire life no matter where she went.

Table, table, chair, Avii, table, chair. Nothing worth recalling. Nothing remarkable at all.

Even her own brothers scarcely seem to remember her existence much less acknowledge her presence. Unless they wanted something of course. They probably don't even realize she's not there half the time. And when she is, she might as well not be. They honestly wouldn't notice the difference, but she couldn't blame them. They all carried their own routines, socializing, drinking and laughing up their pathetic lives like their debt would disappear and the events of Republic city didn't disturb them. Avii had attended one of their little flings once, sitting at a bar flustered beyond belief and barely noticed by the bartender much less her family and their friends.

She bit her lip at the memory.

The book in her grasp had missing pages, and a painful sting of irony made her visibly wince as she noticed that these pages would have never been noticed had the rip in the binding been ambiguous. Much like the situation of herself and...well, particularly everyone. So upon being asked her name, by a consistent customer no less, she was a bit eager to tell, and a bit flustered...as usual. Not only was he of the _male_ gender but he was also attractive, the type of person who had no actual legitimate business on their end of the city. Clean, respectful, able bodied and _patient_.

It was odd really...the entire situation. An uneasy feeling, sizzling at the very base of her stomach, made her shift as though anxious whenever he spoke to her as a human being. Noatak. How..._Water Tribe_ of a name. Even with the serene blue of his eyes and the pale brown of his complexion she found the name genuinely tribal..._Northern_ tribal.

"Are you from the North?" She asks one day, careful to phrase it as a question rather than an assumption. He glanced at her, a bit surprised by her break in routine yet responds with a gentle smirk and a brief nod of the head, an odd shift in his eyes as he does so.

"Yes, both of my parents as well." She sets down his tea and takes his plate, Amon finally having swallowed enough caution and pride to try the food here (which had surprisingly exceeded his poor expectations), before leaning forward to remove an anti-bender flyer that someone had left on every table. She scowled, and he raised a brow as though curious.

"What is your opinion, if you don't mind, on the revolution?" He asks, smile still managing to graze his lips as Avii placed the paper on the serving tray. She shrugged, hand swiping itself over her apron to wipe off moisture and green eyes returning to his interested expression. Of course that flustered her as well, seeing as how someone cared and expected her to share her thoughts. Not a very repetitive instance.

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I suppose. Nothing anyone on this end of town can really do...not enough significance to society." Very truthful, very modest in her own voice, and for an odd and undignified reason he enjoyed that. Amon was as much of a symbol as he was a person, a person with very few but solid beliefs; _one_: benders are a hindrance to society, _two_: make sure your voice is heard, and _three_: have a belief and defend it with all of your life and pride. Avii, a simple waitress of few words and hardly an ounce of defiance or pride in her body, had managed to appease him with her fragile statement.

"Every voice counts." He says while holding his tea close to his lips, and she exposes this hesitant, beautiful, graceful, stunning smile that, although only true to his own opinion, outmatched any other on the entire planet. Pathetic, distracting, useless emotions.

"I suppose it does..." Avii nods, holding her tray closer to her chest and maintaining such a gentle upturn of lips. His breath hitches, because women were and had _always_ been this necessity to relive himself whenever a bitter fatigue of loneliness and temper managed to drown him in a sour mood. And they were never long-term (he'd straightened out his priorities long ago) and they were always...sexy. Avii was not sexy, there were no elegant long legs holding her up and there was no trim dainty waist with swaying hips that attracted the eye. She was this average being with thicker limbs and a hidden body concealed by the usual blouse puffed at the sleeves and tucked into her skirt. A bit disappointing...but what did he know? He was an Equalist...not a womanizer.

But at this point being a fine combination of the two would have been more than convenient.

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**So, this is my first LoK fanfic...and it was in high demand since the series began. I have no clue how many people asked for this, and finally I'm getting to it. Well, I truly hope it's acceptable so far.** **Also, this takes place before Korra moved into Republic City, and is also taking place in the middle of Amon's movement.**

**Please Review! **

**I appreciate and reply to all feedback!**


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